


The Knights of Redwall: Short Stories

by JaxMandaro



Series: The Knights of Redwall [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Action/Adventure, Espionage, Gen, Original Player Characters, Parody, Politics, Shounen, Tropes, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23395420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaxMandaro/pseuds/JaxMandaro
Summary: The following is a collection of works based around the recent actions of the Knights of Redwall Free Company in Final Fantasy XIV. These stories generally have a lighter tone in nature, but feature most of the same things as Operation: Red Talons.
Series: The Knights of Redwall [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669540
Kudos: 1





	1. Operation: N.I.G.H.T. S.H.I.F.T.

Operation: N.I.G.H.T. S.H.I.F.T

Never  
Investigate  
Guarded  
Hingashi  
Thoughtfully

Several  
Hippocratic  
Infidels  
Fight  
Terrorism

A small cart moved its way down the dark streets of Kugane, on top of it sat an old, grizzled Miqo’te in a rice paddy hat smoking a cigar. It was being pulled by a much younger Miqo’te with mossy green hair and a matching hat. As they rambled on down the road, a pair of faint signs could be seen across the side of the wagon that roughly spelled out the word “Ambulance” in the local tongue, although it was misspelled. 

I really should have asked Sota or Kazari about the sign. Jaster thought to himself as Sohmah labored along down the road. The wagon was also not their first choice, having to commandeer it from a sleeping cabbage merchant earlier in the night. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to spend too much time cleaning them all up, they did just have to dump the cabbages in the street and dash with the wagon. 

The linkshell in Jaster’s ear chattered with talk from various paramedic units within the city. They were tasked with blending in with the orderly night shift in order to wiretap their communications. A few of the units in the city operated on the Garlean payroll, and they needed to see if they were stupid enough to slip up and say something. The two of them were going to be here for a few weeks, so they might as well try as many avenues as possible.

“We have an accident in the marketplace, someone spilled cabbages all over the street. Any nearby units?” stated the main operator.

Not that one, obviously… Jaster continued in his mind, noticing that Sohmah wasn’t changing direction either. He reached into his pocket, taking out a license belonging to an actual paramedic the two of them had jumped the day before. On it had the standard information, including his call sign on the radio and his licensing. Unfortunately for the two of them, they happened upon one of the more trained in his field, so they would have to be ready to respond to anything.

They were able to make it into the Rakuza district without much of an issue, which also served as their base of operations for the moment. The cart came to a stop outside a local noodle shop that the two had come to frequent over the years in the city. Although they had served multiple roles while in Hingashi, the local shop owner knew the two Miqo’te as a pair of travelling booksellers. They came up to the bar, taking a seat and ordering a bowl of uzamaki ramen and a couple of coffees. 

The shop owner sat their drinks down on the counter in front of them, giving them a quick nod before going off to do other things. Jaster took a newspaper from the counter and began to thumb through it before Sohmah chimed in on the night’s happenings.

“Are you sure this is even going to work? They can’t be this stupid, boss. Kugane is full of listening ears.” said the younger Miqo’te, taking a sip of his drink.

“Half of the time, it works every time.” replied Jaster, who had taken a cigar out of his jacket to accompany his coffee. “The key is time, if we hang out long enough, someone is bound to slip up, no one is perfect.”

It was around this time that the shop owner returned with their food. Thankfully, it was a quiet night at the shop, with only a few locals in the room with the two. Sohmah was apparently displeased with his coffee, however, as he began to turn over a large dispenser of sugar into his cup. As the granulated narcotics poured into his drink, Jaster noticed that one of the other patrons had also received their noodles and was furiously scarfing them down.

“I don’t even know how this is supposed to work anyway. Neither of us are even close to doctors. What am I supposed to tell them? “I should tell you, but I’m not a real doctor.” Sohmah rambled on as the amount of sugar in his coffee because to become dangerous. 

“You can tell them whatever you like, we just need to travel around and act the part. The dude isn’t even on shift tonight.” Jaster replied, talking about the man they had mugged in order to take on these disguises in the first place. He took another drink of his coffee and looked over to Sohmah, but he was quickly overtaken by what was going behind the mossy haired Miqo’te.

The man that was eating behind them was slurping noodles in such vigor that he was now choking with a trail of noodles in his mouth. His face was beet red, with snot driveling out his nose while he grasped at his throat. Only the person next to him had noticed, with the store owner still washing dishes behind the counter. Jaster tapped Sohmah on the shoulder real quick while sitting forward in his seat.

“We needa go, right now.”

Sohmah swatted at Jaster with his hand, still not looking at the now almost empty sugar dispenser. How was it not overfilling yet?

Instead of waiting to argue, Jaster got up and yanked Sohmah by the collar out of the seat, giving him only a second to secure his drink before dragging him out of the building.   
“Damnit, did you forget we’re running around in a sham ambulance?” Jaster lashed out as the two of them rushed to the stolen cart.  
“We’re supposed to be booksellers! It’s not like we could just jump in and do anything.” Sohmah shot back.

“Well, we can start with not getting arrested for grand theft handwagon.” Jaster said while donning his rice paddy hat and clamoring up on the wagon. Sohmah chugged his coffee flavored sugar before pushing off on the handrail, sending the two of them down the street. Only a few moments later, another cart pulled up in their spot, only this time, it was an actual medical unit.

Jaster and Sohmah made their way down the side street of Rakuza in a hurry, thanks to a sugar powered Miqo’te pulling the cart along so fast that Jaster had to actively hold his hat down due to the wind. Sohmah was dealing with the wind by just pointing it directly down the street, completely blinding his field of view except for a few feet in front of him. They were quickly approaching a “T” intersection, Jaster quickly checked the corner before yelling, “Clear! Right turn!” to Sohmah. Without slowing down at all, the young Miqo’te pivoted hard, sending the cart in a drift around the corner. The back end of the cart swung wide, barely missing a grumbling old man by an inch before rocking down the street, leaving him to grumble about his cabbage cart by himself in the darkness.

Jaster spent the better part of the next hour just listening to the wiretapped linkshell frequency while Sohmah did his best to make the pair look like an actual roaming ambulance. The chatter over the linkshell still wasn’t amounting to anything, and the pair were really starting to miss their blown opportunity for some food. They turned another corner in search of a place to eat when they heard a loud crash. As they turned into view, they bore witness to a wrecked, overturned wagon, with a pair of men lying on the ground off to the side.

They came to a stop, looking at each other briefly before getting away from their cart and towards the scene of the crash. There were a few people around, so it seemed they had to play the part. As they investigated, it seemed like the man who had been steering the wagon had been fully ejected, and had come to a grinding halt on the stone street. The other man seemed much worse off, with his leg obviously broken, whimpering while trying to move away from the wreck. Sohmah walked up to the man who was unconscious, put him up on his shoulder, and hastily tossed the man in the wagon while Jaster climbed in beside him. They tore off towards the local hospital, leaving the other man still in the road, crying while holding his splintered leg.

Jaster sat next to the man, smoking a cigar while looking out towards the three of them. The smoke was obviously getting caught in the man’s face before being swept out by the passing wind. The man had only been in the wagon for a few minutes before he started coughing and sputtering, rolling around while coming back around. He looked up at Jaster, who wasn’t even paying attention to him, before an expression of bewilderment came across his face. Instead of asking any questions, he shoved his face back down into his robes, hiding his consciousness from Jaster. The older Miqo’te saw something in the distance, and signaled for Sohmah to stop a little farther up the road. 

Jaster jumped out of the cart before it came to a stop. Looking up at a solitary tree planted on the side of the street. Sohmah walked up to him, looking up in the tree with him. The two of them had a hard time looking in the dark, but they found what Jaster had first laid eyes on, a small cat on a limb near the top of the sakura tree. 

“Oh, really?” Sohmah said to Jaster as he looked up at the small cat. The poor thing was latched onto the tree, its paws completely stretched out to help its grip. The two Miqo’te looked at each other, before taking a stance towards each other and extending a fist and a palm outwards towards the other. As the two played rock, paper, scissors to decide who would climb the tree, the man they had “rescued” earlier peered over the edge of the cart, ducking down after a second before rolling out on the other side of the “ambulance” from Jaster and Sohmah. He limped off into the night as the two completed the game, causing a curse from Sohmah. The younger Miqo’te started to climb the tree as Jaster look a moment to listen in on the linkshell. 

“Attention, units, we have a crash involving an overturned wagon near the Rakuza district, reports on the scene say another unit had already passed by the scene, but there has been no units reporting in. We need someone down there right away, a Sekeisegumi escort is on the way.”

“Alright, I think we’re done for the night!” Jaster called towards Sohmah, who had just wrapped his hand around the little Siamese cat. Instead of relaxing, it instead clung hard onto Sohmah’s arm, who took the opportunity to jump hastily down from the tree. He handed the small cat over to Jaster before putting on the rice paddy hat, who donned his as well as they loaded up into the cart. The cat began to relax as the cart took off, this time for a small alleyway to dump the ambulance before making their way back across town towards their base.

Meanwhile, the man who had made his escape from Jaster and Sohmah wandered into the Red Bazaar, heralding down some Sekeisegumi who were on duty. 

“Please, someone help! I was just kidnapped by some fake ambulance drivers!’


	2. Operation: E.A.S.T. W.I.N.D.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginning the events of the six month timeskip, the Knights of Redwall find themselves ordered to join the front lines of the Ghymlit Dark, the most harrowing military theater in the war against the Empire. How will the counter-intelligence service fare against innumerable odds?

Even  
Accounting  
Special  
Tactics  
Won’t  
Impede  
Nihilistic  
Dunce

Four identically colored figures climbed the long steps of the Royal Menagerie, the dusty stone offsetting the plethora of hanging plants and running water. They crested the steps onto the plateau that overlooked the region of Gyr Abania, the setting sun painting the healing country a beautiful amber color. Another man stood at the end of the high rise, staring out onto the land silently. The one armed man turned around, looking the group up and down before stepping out into the sunlight. It was General Aldynn, the leader of the Ala Mhigan army, and former Flame General of the Immortal Flames.

“Thank you for coming, Captain Laenwyn.” Started the General, not relaxing his pose whatsoever. The man stopped for a moment to look at each of the strangers individually. The man in front was none other than Jaster Laenwyn, Lord Commander of the Knights of Redwall. Behind him stood his three most loyal and fierce comrades; The Division Commanders.  
Each of them had served under Jaster for no less than ten years, and each of them are close enough to the Captain to be regarded as one of his own children. The one in the center was by no small order, the most notorious of the three. Being the longest serving Knight in the order, having been with Jaster for most of Jaster’s military career, his exploits have netted him possibly one of the top five highest bounties within the Garlean Empire. The Miqo’te wore just enough to be considered formal, still straying away from wearing any sort of shirt, revealing a myriad of scars and defined muscles denoting his monk heritage. His piercing yellow eyes and mossy green hair made him stand out even amongst his fellow Free Company mates. To his own, he is known as the Spymaster, and top Agent in the Knights of Redwall, Sohmah “The Broodfist” Yhaazri.

The second of the three stood at Sohmah’s left, a small Lalafell with blonde hair and a dead stare that could cut glass. While most Lalafell were known for their shrewd behavior, the overwhelming presence of this young woman could be felt just the same as her fellow Commanders. Known to be one of the three best engineer’s in the Twin Adders, she not only developed the technology behind the Redwall Fleet, but personally built and maintained a number of the fleet’s capital ships along with her Division. Despite being known as an engineer, she sported a heavily modified set of Onion Knight’s Armor along with a double headed axe quite larger than herself. Her skill with her axe rivals that of her wrench, being taught by the Eternal Wanderer of the Knights of Redwall himself. She was known as the Gasmaster by her fellow Knights, but the rest of the world knew her as Curly Fry, The Fleet Admiral of Redwall, “The Right Wing of Dalamud”.

To the right of Sohmah stood the third of the Division Commanders. Her flowing black hair rested upon an ornate set of Summoner’s Attire, complete with a high-tec kitsune mask that covered her face entirely. While most magicians sport long, flowing robes, this particular mage kept to lighter, more flexible garb, allowing her grimoire to stand out openly. Most grimoires are little without their practitioners, the one at her hip felt strange to those who were around it, its will almost grasping out at the edges of one’s mind. She commanded one of the most savage units in the Twin Adder Grand Company, although it took Raubahn a solid fortnight to uncover anything about her. According to heavily redacted records from the Red Otter high command, she volunteered to lead an operation deep into Alabathia’s Spine to route the 8th Legion after their defeat at Camp Cloudtop. After hunting them down, her elite group of black ops commandos waged guerilla warfare upon them for weeks, breaking the retreating force without losing a single man. She is known by almost a dozen different aliases across the known world, but the only one that showed up more than once was “Dreadwyrm’s Fury”, her record only said Sotaisa Kalevala, Field Commander of the Knights of Redwall. 

The Ala Mhigan General saluted the group, prompting a similar reply from all but the Lord Commander himself. After a moment, Raubahn took his fiery eyes away from him and looked out to the northeast, towards the Gymlit Dark. His voice was somber, yet carried well across the top of the Royal Menagerie. His tone left no room to guess his disdain for those gathered before him, although it did nothing to sway the Adders gathered before him.

“The Eorzean Alliance must hold its ground where it stands. With the Empire at war with itself, it is only a matter of time before they’re back on the offensive. Now I hear of a group of Eorzeans going rogue and planning an assault into Garlean Territory? Captain Laenwyn, explain yourself!” His voice boomed across the plaza, seemingly blowing the plants around them.

“The Third Fleet is planning to siege our forces at the border with an expanded fleet. That fleet alone is responsible for the deaths of tens of thousands of good men. Our intelligence has been verified, their Legatus will be mustering his forces right this moment. We’re going in.” Jaster replied, his eyes locked on the Flame General. He was obviously not intimidated by the Ala Mhigan booming, instead delivering his statement with an icey undertone. 

“We cannot directly advance into hostile territory without Eorzean Alliance approval!”

“We’re an independently chartered counter-intelligence organization licensed by the Red Otters. We don’t need your damned approval.” Retorted the captain, looking out onto the horizon himself, his facial expression not changing. “Besides, we were sent here because the High Command of this shameful theatre cannot handle a single front war despite being the strongest willed City State in the Alliance. As a former Ala Mhigan, I am disappointed in everything I have seen thus far. We need to wrap things up so we can return to our own affairs, we have real powder kegs to deal with back home.”

Raubahn’s anger went from reserved to apparent in an instant, seething from his words during his response. “How dare you! I am one of the most respected men in the Eorzean Alliance! You will show some respect!” He swung his remaining hand outwards from his robe, unleashing a gust of wind and aether that swept out towards the group. However, the Lord Commander’s eye’s glinted deep red, sending a similar wave of his own to meet the Ala Mhigan general’s. After a moment, the energy dissipated, giving the Miqo’te room to speak.

“I deeply apologize, I have such a hard time distinguishing all of the Ul’dahn bureaucrats that bought their positions with money, perhaps you should write your name on a few gil so I can remember your posthumous status the next time. While you were busy fighting your way through the Coliseum, my men were dying in Dimworld to save civilians as they fled into Gridania. I don’t see how you haven’t been stepped down already, as Lord Hien has been here for a few weeks. He is an actual Field Commander, and a few decades your junior, nonetheless.” 

The Lord Commander lit a cigar and took a breath, exhaling into the Gyr Abanian air. “Commanders, are we operational?”

The Dreadwyrm’s Fury replied, a wicked grin crossing her face. “All units have been accounted for, The Duskqueen is loaded and fully operational. You’re the trigger.”

“Give the men the green light, I want the Fleet in the air within the hour.” Jaster replied as he turned to leave, his Commanders turning to follow him. 

“On whose authority?!?” Screamed Raubahn from across the room, a vein nearly popping on his forehead.

Jaster turned around almost instantly at his fellow Ala Mhigan, directly challenging the man with a tone equally powerful, but full of ice and rancor. “ON MY AUTHORITY.”

Afterwards, the group turned to leave. The only one left on the Royal Menagerie now was the General, who had now gone back to staring out onto the horizon. 

However, within the next few minutes, The air had begun to fill with buzzing and the beating of propellers as a large mass of ships could be seen in the distance, heading towards the northeast. The sun sat behind them, bathing them in the sun’s warmth one last time before it eclipsed, leaving this part of the world in darkness.


	3. Operation: A.B.S.O.L.U.T.E.L.Y.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the KoR Ghymlit Dark time skip series!

Allied  
Battle  
Station  
Obfuscating  
Losses  
Until  
Timely  
Ensemble  
Levee  
Yttrium

“Every available hand needs to be returning fire!!” Yelled an unnamed officer in a Maelstrom uniform as shrapnel, smoke, and Imperial gunfire flew over her pointed Miqo’te ears. The Eorzean forces gathered within this decrepit steel redoubt had been withstanding artillery fire for a few days now, their battered walls crumbling with each additional volley. They were running low on food and water, and had only a few more hours worth of shells left for their cannons. Somehow, their singular linkshell antennae rose a few feet above the ramparts, desperately sending an SOS signal out to any brothers in arms within the area that could lend them assistance.

Below the redoubt advanced more than a hundred Imperial troops and armored Vanguard, returning fire on the Eorzeans as they crept ever closer to their wall. They were accompanied by three Imperial Assault Frigates, their large armaments ringing out across the night sky. The skies themselves were covered in a raging thunderstorm, the only illumination granted to either side were momentary flashes of lightning as they flickered across the Ghymlit Dark. 

The autonomous flying warmachina of the Empire began to make strafing runs on the Eorzean ramparts, chipping away at the already undermanned defenses, however, the Eorzeans were not letting the enemy take an inch without heavy losses. Gridianian arrows, fireballs, and Ishgardian cannon fire tore into flesh and steel without discrimination, but the Imperials advanced ever closer, until they were within a few hundred yalms of the Eorzean fortification. 

It was then that the linkshell communications array deep within the fort began to light up with a litany of activity. The fort’s commander, a grizzled Gridanian Deputy Marshal, stood over the private that was manning the communications array. They were desperate, however, he wasn’t expecting any good news. They had withstood this long, but most of the men under his command had not slept in days, and he was doing everything he could to keep his fellow comrades going. 

“Sir, our scanners are picking up a few dozen more aircraft approaching. They’re coming from the same direction as the Empire. Awaiting visual confirmation…” The communications soldier told his commander, his shoulders tense as the room filled with an eerie silence. A few seconds later, he looked up, a solemn look on his face. “Brothers-in-arms on the ramparts confirm that the new aircraft are flying Imperial colors, however they aren’t the Third Legion, it seems they’ve received reinforcements.”

The Eorzeans around the room began to sink into a stupor, the reality of their situation leaving a blank expression on everyone in the area. The Commander stepped forward, his face stern, yet his tone was low, allowing the others to have a moment to contemplate his words. “I think we all understand what’s about to happen, it’s up to us to hold out as long as possible, if we can hold them back an hour, or another day, it will give everyone time to keep them from advancing even farther.”

The others took a few minutes, before looking around and nodding. The group were mostly either sergeants or of a higher rank, taking a moment to deliver orders through their linkshells before going to leave the room to return to their men on the walls. Before they began to leave, however, the linkshell array began to crackle to life once again, this time, from another outlet entirely from the one before. This signal was being sent via encryption, and whoever it was, it caused every single person to stand in complete silence. Their eyes glued to the soldier with the headset in the center of the room. 

The man himself stood above his desk, looking down at the radio with his eyes rapidly darting to and from every flickering light on the console, rapidly jotting down a series of notes on a piece of paper as he was able to decode the incoming message. After a few more seconds, his pen stopped, and his eyes went down to the piece of paper in his hands. In the weight of the moment, it seemed he penned the entire paper without looking at it, and his scribbles were quite evident of that. 

“Come on then, what is the message?” Asked the commander, giving the man a moment.

“Sir, it’s a Red Otter frequency. “All Eorzean Forces, Reinforcements are Inbound. Twelve be with us. May you fly on wings of silver….”

“What the hell? There aren’t any signatures on the scanners! Are the Imps playing a trick on us?? The only thing on the battlefield are a load of Imperial reinforcements.” Asked another sergeant, however, the Commander’s eyes began to flicker as he began to move across the room. 

“Cease fire on those flak guns! Those are our reinforcements! Gather your men at the gates, and prepare for a frontal charge as soon as we get the signal!”

“Our reinforcements? Who in the seven hells even knows we’re out here?!? We’ve been sending signals for days! Are you sure our signals haven’t been compromised?” asked another officer, looking at the Commander with a few others behind him.

The Commander looked up into the faces of his subordinates, a wicked grin crossing his face. “There’s only one group that uses that blessing. It’s your lucky day boys, you’re about to bear witness to a Twin Adder Ghost Company.” 

Meanwhile, over the skies of the Ghymlit Dark, the sound roaring engines amplified multiple times as the sky began to turn into a swarm of flying steel. The new group of airships had joined with the 3rd Legion Frigates, weaving in between the fleet group with two large, capital ship class warships, with a third, smaller frigate class ship behind them. Their iron plated hulls were adorned with tattered flags of the 4th Legion, a force that the Eorzeans had largely believed to be wiped out in the Sea of Clouds a year prior. Within minutes, their supporting gunships had filed in between the frigate and the front line of ships. However, the incoming flak from the Eorzean guns had stopped, causing a brief breaking in the deafening thunder of gunpowder and explosions. 

“I think they figured it out, boss, wanna get this show rolling?” asked a Lalafell from across another linkshell, her blonde hair bristling in the wind from the helm of the largest of the three new airships. 

“Aye, Admiral, let’s give our comrades a hand, Gridanians always help a friend in need as they were family, correct?” Echoed another older voice from the linkshell. Suddenly, the same voice could be heard in all corners of the battlefield. Many of the men actually stopped the fighting momentarily, completely taken off guard by such a sudden alarum. 

“Marshall Darius! It’s been too long, old friend, consider this a formal apology for that time in Twelveswood all those years ago.” After a few more moments, the voice could be heard again. “Alright, the gig is up boys, hoist the colors! Open these tin cans!”

Much to the surprise of the Eorzeans on the ground, in that moment, all of the airships which bore the ragged 4th Legion heraldry cut their flags loose, causing more than a few warmachina to crash due to the fabric getting caught up in their gyro-copters. Where the heraldry once fluttered haphazardly in the wind now stood glistening depictions of a screaming silver owl, diving across a bloody rendition of Baelsar’s Wall. 

The Imperial Frigates frantically attempted to rotate their turreted main cannons in time, but they were far too late, as the multiple layers of cannons on both of the main battleships sprung into life, causing a cacophony of exploding steel and screeching as the frigates fell to the new fleet’s high powered cannonry. Simultaneously, the smaller gunships broke into two groups, one who directly moved to engage the warmachina in the air, while the second followed the frigate class ship as it flew towards the battlefield at incredible speed. 

The airships began to open their docking bays as they flew closer to the ground, slowing down only slightly before squadrons of armored troopers began to fall onto the ground below. These men were clad in all black reactive armor, and sporting a new prototype of fully automatic aether rifle. They began to tear into the Garlean troops on the ground, supported by the fully automatic machine gun fire of their gunships. 

The Eorzean forces from within the fort took this moment of opportunity to open the gates of the installation, before gathering what men they could for a frontal assault while their allies attacked them from behind. Within a few minutes, the tide had shifted almost entirely, and the shadowy troops that had helped them began to clean up the battlefield, quickly finding and executing any wounded Garlean they could come across. Their eerie gas masks were only overshadowed by the red glint that their visor displayed over their eyes. The same emblem adorning their sleeves that was emblazoned across their ships.

When the fighting had ended, the largest battleship began sending out auxiliary ships with much needed food, water, and medical supplies, as well as helping the wounded back on airships so they could be brought back to Ala Mhigo. Marshall Darius and his officers walked up to the main group of men that strolled off of a fourth, much larger airship that had been hiding deep within the thunder clouds overhead, coordinating the entire relief effort. A grizzled old Miqo’te could be seen leading a conversation of much younger officers, all of whom sported various Commander level insignia on their sleeves.

“Captain Laenwyn, I would never have thought I would say this, but I am rather glad to see you. I don’t believe you’ll be staying, but I much appreciate the supplies.”

The old Miqo’te turned around and grinned, his face mired in battle scars and a very striking red tattoo, which etched across his face like a spider’s web. “Ahh, Marshall Darius! I am glad we made it in time. I was sure that Raubahn had kept us too long with his incessant praddle.”

“Are the rumors true then? We’re not to advance into Garlean Territory?”

“Aye, but that’s not my concern. If Raubahn really wants to get to me, he’ll have to get through the Seedseer. Someone has to route the Third before it can do too much damage.”

“Well, I wish you all the best of luck, I hope you all don’t mind a bit of recognition, I doubt I can keep the men from telling others of what happened here today.”

“Do what you will, Marshall, we plan on cutting linkshell communications and heading farther north post haste. I suspect their headquarters, and main manufactory, are all located close enough for us to strike it. Our intelligence network didn’t pick up most of these aircraft, which means they didn’t come from outside the Ghimlyt Dark.”

Within half an hour, the airships of Redwall were loading back up and taking to the skies, leaving behind a few squadrons of additional men to help keep the fort while reinforcements arrived from Ala Mhigo. The Eorzeans on the ramparts waved their flags wildly at their brothers and sisters in arms as they departed, giving them a round of cannon fire as a salute as well. Soon, the fleet had disappeared as soon as it came, back into the ruinous mountains of the north, and deep into Garlean territory.


	4. Operation: C.O.I.N. T.O.S.S.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Three of the KoR Time Skip Series!

Counter-Intelligence  
Operations  
Insinuate  
Nuanced  
Tactics  
Oppress  
Stalwart  
Safeguard

Imperial guardsmen ran to and fro upon the fortified ramparts of their encampment, a highly entrenched fortification sitting upon a small hill in the Gymlit Dark. Their screaming pitches were drowned out by an absolute deluge of heavy artillery barrages, automatic weapons fire, explosive flak shells, and other small arms fire covering nearly every inch of their emplacement. They were returning with flak cannon fire of their own, however, it did little to calm the incoming storm. 

A few men on the rampart kept their heads low against the steel defenses, clinging to their rifles in one hand in their helmet in the other. Sweeping their eyes back and forth, they eyed their commander, who had climbed onto a rampart higher upon the hill, in an attempt to shout as far as his voice could carry. 

“We’ve received word from High Command! We’re not to let them have an inch! No retre--” yelled the Imperial Centurion, however, his command was cut off prematurely by an incoming bunker buster round fired from a heavy artillery piece, turning the fort’s commanding officer into a puff of red mist before the walls behind him melted into a cloud of dust and rubble. 

With the main wall starting to crumble under its own weight and from the impact of multiple artillery blasts, the anti-air guns mounted on top of them started to shift and shutter as well. As they started falling into the ravine, their munitions were exposed as their platforms folded. A chance incoming round would inevitably find them, sending even more thunderous explosions rocking through the complex.

The end of the constant anti-aircraft fire might have helped the defender’s bleeding eardrums, but it came at a cost. With the skies above clearing of exploding shrapnel, it filled instead with the rhythmic pounding of gyro-copters and the whirl of automatic guns. Small one man airships, armed with two small automatic cannons and one larger aether cannon for the more well defended emplacements, began their strafing runs. Dozens of these ships blasted through the air, utilizing their speed to avoid fire while freely attacking what men were too unfortunate to get back into the safety of the bunker. 

Meanwhile, on the command deck of the large Flagship that sat on the back firing line of the fleet group, a trio of individuals dressed in formal Commander attire stood gazing at the field before them. Their ship was similar in size to a Ship-of-the-Line class cruiser in the Imperial Navy, but sported a rather distinctive and large cannon that was mounted at the dead center of the ship’s heavily armored bow. It was flanked by three smaller ships, approximately cruiser class ships, but each was specialized and fired a great variety of cannonry. 

Ahead of them was the primary firing line of airships, a dozen heavily armored Eorzean gunships that blanketed the ground before them, as well as the fort, with every single cannon they had. Each ship was partitioned in such a way that they could freely broadside into the battlefield, forming a great crescent arc in front of their enemy. 

“I’m all about giving the men a bit more proper experience, but isn’t this a little excessive, even for our standard siege barrages?” Started Eunbi, who stood in the middle of the trio. 

“We’ll use the fort’s remaining munitions and guns to resupply, not to mention, we need to set up a base camp soon, so we can have Curly and her division repair and mount whatever we find onto our fleet. Besides, the men need to learn; a quick, brutal conflict may be devastating, but it brings less overall pain to humanity in the long run. A quick war is the most humanitarian. Also, it sends a message to the Garleans, which has always been our overall goal.” said the second figure, looming Hyur who looked out with crossed arms, his red hair accenting his azure armor. 

“Naming is correct, although I would prefer to stay off the enemy’s radar.” Jaster retorted. “There will be plenty of battles for the men to wet their pallet, but this one is a bit too good to pass up I suppose.” 

The three hadn’t been able to decide what to do when the installation showed up on their radar sensors, about fifty malms deep into Garlean Territory. The bunker would no doubt hold valuable supplies and intelligence, but the enemy would certainly know their location. In the end, they decided to let a coin toss decide their fate.

“Heads, I win, tails, you lose.” says Jaster through a cloud of smoke.

“No way, boss, I’m not that dense. I’ll take tails.” Naming laughed.

As the coin fell to the ground, the tails side of the coin showed face up. A full siege it would be, and Naming Way would command the men for the assault.


	5. Operation: H.O.L.I.D.A.Y.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small look into the deep history of the Knights of Redwall's enigmatic Lord Commander.

Happenstance  
Ostracizes  
Lamenting  
Idiots  
During  
Arbitrary   
Yeomanries

The skies of Rabanastre turned burning orange as the sun set. Patrols of imperial troops wormed in and out of the streets as their regular patrols shifted, keeping watch over what citizenry remained after their takeover. Most everyone left lived akin to the animals that they took care of, moving around in tattered rags and broken shoes in an attempt to avoid the soldiers.

One small, disabled child was unfortunate, slipping on an errant piece of trash before tumbling to the floor in front of the soldiers. This was all it took for them to make their move, chortling to themselves before sweeping the child’s walking stick away. The one in the front was the first to move, getting into the kid’s face, with his fellow patrolmen crowding around him.

“What’s the matter? Couldn’t move out of the way fast enough?” He laughed, causing the others to join in. The child began to whimper, trying as he could to move away from the man looming overhead.   
“Water….I’m so thirsty.” Replied the child, his throat scratching as he forced out what words he could. 

“Oh, is that it?” Stated the soldier, who waved to another, who pulled out his canteen and handed it to the frontman. “Here, let me help you with that.” He took the cap off of the container and started to pour it out, on top of the child’s head. The whimpers of the kid turned into wails as the crowd of Rabanastarians looked on helplessly. The older among them began to look around to the others, seeing if there was anyone who would stand up to the Imperial mind games.

One of the old women in the crowd couldn’t take it any longer, stepping forward and shouting to the men, causing a stillness to overcome the entire street. “Will no one stand up to them! What men torture the downtrodden and vulnerable? May your souls be damned!” Tears were coming out of her eyes at this point, causing her to raise her pitch even higher. “May the Crimson Aegiolus take you all! He is a man of deeds, not words! A blade that cuts his enemies in two! He is a man, of justice!” 

“Would someone shut this old hag up?” said the front Garlean, whose facial expression went from a state of twisted euphoria to annoyance. However, he was interrupted by a rumbling sound that emanated from a large, overhanging door that had been shut earlier as the group arrived. The crowd also took notice, curiously peering over each other to see what was happening.

A flaming blade tore through the steel door like hot butter, taking a moment to create a circle of molten metal before starting to travel upwards and curve. The group of Garleans were similarly taken aback, gesturing to themselves before returning their puzzling gaze to the makeshift welding project happening in front of their eyes.

As the blade finished its arc, the obvious shape of a humanoid outline with a tail and pointed ears sizzled and cackled as the melted metal sank under the heat and pressure. With a swift kick, the outline flew off the rest of the door and into the street. The garleans looked down at the smoking metal, and then up as a shadowy figure stepped out, causing a rousing cheer from the onlookers.

An older Miqo’te stepped through the door, clad in classic Red magic robes and smoking a comically over sized cigar. He smiled a wicked grin, letting a cloud of smoke rise from his lips as the crowd gathered what had just happened before them. Without missing a beat, he walks over to the child, ignoring the rest of the people in the street as he took out his own canteen and presses it up to the child’s lips, giving him the reprieve he had been so desperate for before.

As the Miqo’te tended to the child, the Garleans began to lose control, obviously perturbed by being ignored so drastically. The one in the front began to yell, getting mere fulms from the man as he spat his words.

“We’re the fiercest legion in all of Garlemald! We’ll fuck you up, damnit! And here you are, like a jackass, all by yourself.”

The old man continued to ignore the men as he watered the child. Giving him a moment before speaking to the downtrodden youngster. “Are you alright?”  
“Yes, thank you mister!!” replied the child, the tears of joy flowing from his eyes.

Without a second to spare, the Miqo’te slid his canteen down so that the strap was in his hand, twirling it before turning around and cracking it across his face. As the blood flew and the Garlean fell to the ground, the old man spoke to them all at once, taking a moment to ash his cigar on the fallen Garlean.

“You see, kid. You imperial pigs always come in groups.” He took his cigar and returned it to his mouth, flicking the tip of his rapier to the ground and extending an open palm to the others. “Lions, always come alone.”

The remaining Garleans burst into action, charging at the old man with their swords brandished. Without skipping a beat, the Miqo’te jumped in the air, kicking each of them in the face as they raced at him. Instead of landing, however, he launched off of the latter Garlean’s head, giving him enough momentum to cast an arcing bolt of lightning that fried the rest of the group in a single blow. 

The crowd began to cheer, causing the old Red Mage to give a flourish as a fan of blades erupted from his focus, allowing him to land on the hilt of a blade that had landed in the ground. The Garleans, completely unmatched, scramble to their feet and take off towards the end of the street, and out of sight within a few seconds. As the crowd’s attention switched from the Garlean’s to the old man, they realized that he had disappeared, just as quickly as he had arrived.

Jaster had not usually donned the old robes, let alone his old moniker, but this time of year was always different for him. The other commander’s always wondered where he went for a few weeks every year, as the old man never really gave them any details. His mind was wandering into nothing, only the errant puffs off of his cigar kept him somewhat attached to reality. 

He finally came to the top of a hill, somewhat out of place in the grand Royal city of Dalmasca. Atop it stood a single cherry tree, somehow still untouched after the decades of war that had torn the rest of the province to pieces. The cherry tree itself was in bloom, its wavering blooms accompanied by an odd carving with a pair of initials on it.

JL and AF

He took out a small bottle, sitting down in front of the tree before pouring a pair of shots. 

“It’s been another year, love. You would be proud of the family we have found. I’m doing my best to save them, if only I had the strength then to save you.”

Tears started to fall from the old man’s eyes as he took the shot of alcohol. As he sat the cup down, an almost consoling breeze brushed across the back of his neck, somehow calming him down. He sat there for a time, talking to seemingly no one at all before leaving. He left the cup of sake, along with a single rose at the base of the tree before making his way back to the family he had found. He had to keep them safe, else wise he would fail them just as he had failed her.


End file.
